Rachel's Reasons
by KitCat Italica
Summary: The real reason why Rachel rejected Bruce: SLASH! Bruce/Joker, established


Rachel's Reasons

_Bruce's penthouse is now the safest place in the city._

That's what I told Harvey on the phone last night. God, was that really just last night? So much has changed since then; it feels like a lifetime away. A big, long nightmare of a lifetime.

Looking back, I was a fool to think what I said on the phone was true.

It doesn't surprise me that the first person I thought of was Bruce. He's been on my mind more and more lately. Not just because of his growing troubles as Batman, but just because of…who he is. That cute, funny kid I grew up with who became the dashing, compassionate man he is now. Who, in spite of the tragedy he went through with his parents' deaths, still finds a way in this desolate world we live in to be human and to love. To love me. To brave the dark recesses of Arkham, just to save me. To leave a room full of defenseless party guests alone in the hands of a madman, just to catch me as I fall to my death out the window. To set up an army of surveillance cameras to follow me everywhere, just to make sure I was safe (I was shocked when I found out about _that_ one, but sitting here now in this warehouse, I realize just how much good he had meant for me by doing that). He always took time out of his nighttime career to keep me safe and make sure I was okay. Because he loved me.

I had told him I would wait for the day he changed, when he stopped caring about Gotham and started caring about me, and me alone. I realize now that I had been selfish to want that from him. For his other life as Batman…that IS his life now. He will never stop caring about his city, just as he will never stop caring about me. He loves both, each in their own way. If he can love an entire city and still have room in his heart for me, was it really too much to ask of me to love him as either Bruce or Batman, whoever he chose to be called?

That night in his penthouse, when he kissed me, I knew my answer. I would stay up each night to wait for him, clean his wounds when he returned, make him his coffee every morning from this day forward. I didn't care if he was almost never home, or never had a free moment. I didn't care that he was rich, or that he was the most powerful person in Gotham.

All I cared about was that, against all odds, he was a man who had always loved me. And I had always loved him, and always would.

So that night, as I lay awake on the couch chasing sleep, I couldn't deny it to myself any longer. I wanted to love him tonight. I wanted to show him I loved him. To do what we both wanted. To have this night as our first, and definitely not our last. So I quietly crept off the couch and tiptoed towards his room.

I softly padded towards his bed, watching his bare back slowly rising and falling in deep slumber, and reached forward to shake his shoulder gently to rouse him, to greet him with a kiss and fall into his arms. But before I could touch him my body froze as I noticed the person lying next to him.

I felt as if I had been jolted with a thousand volts of electricity as I was met with the terrifying green eyes of the Joker leering back at me from Bruce's bed.

I realized then that Bruce's penthouse had suddenly become the most dangerous place in the city.

My mind couldn't think, my mouth couldn't scream or call for help, let alone wake Bruce up to alert him to the danger. Then I noticed…entwined in sheets, the Joker was as naked as Bruce was, and was lying in a sticky liquid too white to be drool.

Whether or not he knew that Bruce and his archenemy were one and the same, I had no idea, yet the fact couldn't find its way out of my head, and blared on my field of vision: Bruce had just been raped by the Joker. _The Joker._ My mouth fell open in a scream, but no sound issued from my throat. My legs refused to obey their commands to run to Alfred for help as the Joker, as if he now recognized me, slowly let a grin spread over his face in the widest smile I had ever seen. I stood there, mesmerized, as his arm calmly rose towards me, his death-dealing fingers reaching to grab my throat –

– when, as fate would have it, Bruce inadvertently saved me again. He must have been alerted to the tensing of his bedmate's body reaching over him, for he suddenly lifted his own arm and wrapped it around the Joker, rubbing his hand up and down that lunatic's back to quiet him. The Joker, darting his eyes back to Bruce, let his grin melt into a look I would never in a million years expect to see on that mass murderer's face.

He looked almost…affectionate.

Sickeningly, he detoured his arm from its path to my throat and ran the tip of his finger across Bruce's hairline, gazing at him almost…lovingly. I could only watch in horror as the enemy of Gotham laid his head down on the chest of the protector of Gotham, snuggling close and entwining his limbs around Bruce's body.

I didn't know how this had come about, but I knew that I had to help him. To save him from this horrific nightmare. HOW had Bruce let this happen? Had he made a deal with the Joker in the name of the city, to save Gotham from destruction in return for his own defilement? Or had the Joker discovered where I was hiding, and Bruce had let himself be taken rather than me? If that was the case, I would have gladly consented to give myself up to the Joker, if it meant saving Bruce from this…atrocity.

Then Bruce kissed his forehead.

My soul fell out of its cradle and shattered on the floor.

Bruce…_knew_. He _knew_ this…madman was here, in his bed, and what was more…he had **let** him in. Invited him willingly, with open arms.

He loved him.

He was messing around with an immoral, insane terrorist, and he _loved_ him.

I had seen the day Bruce stopped caring about his city, and stopped caring about me.

I didn't speak to Bruce the next day. I couldn't even look him in the eye. Instead, I wrote him a letter explaining my refusal in the most candid manner I had the courage to muster, and entrusted it to Alfred, leaving without another word to Bruce. I explained my various reasons why we couldn't be together, but never did I mention why I didn't _want _to even be in the same room with him ever again.

So Harvey, you wanted to know my answer? My answer is yes. Because it seems the man I thought I knew, I never really knew at all. And it appears he's already taken.

I hear Harvey screaming now, on the other end of the phone that oh-so-lovable clown was so kind to leave for me in here. I knew that Bruce would show up before any police did, so it must be him who reached Harvey first. He must have been told where Harvey was by his closet sweetheart, or maybe…maybe he really did know where I was, and _chose_ to save Harvey, the white knight of Gotham, instead. Because I'm no longer the girl of his dreams. He has a murderous raving lunatic to fill that gap in his life now.

At this point, I'll believe he could have done or decided anything at all. Because I don't know Bruce Wayne anymore.

Harvey, it's okay. It's alright, listen. Somewh–

_Somewhere we'll see each other again. If the police come, it may be in this world, but if not, it may be in another. But know that somewhere, we'll be reunited, because in this changing world, at least I'm sure of this. __You__ could never be tempted by madness, and I know you will never change._

* * *

**And we all know how that wishful thinking turns out for her. **


End file.
